


Impulsive actions

by chiriil



Category: Original Work
Genre: GT, M/M, Macro/Micro, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2019-11-26 17:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18183347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiriil/pseuds/chiriil
Summary: Dakota is a mechanic working on maintining the giant robots built decades ago to protect humanity- that now sit in large warehouses outside of the occasional test. Impulse has a crush on him, and is determined not to show it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This might be continued but for now have an intro chapter  
> (I proof-read this like. once so lemme know if there's any typos)

The spanning expanse of the hangar is quiet, aside from the faint droning of an old, staticky radio playing outdated hits next to where a mechanic sits cross legged, repairing a strut on a mech easily over 150’ tall. It’s a routine maintenance, but tedious nonetheless, and Dakota happened to be the only mechanic with no Saturday night plans. A tinny radio provides enough background noise for him to zone out and get lost in thought as he checks the perimeter of the mech’s pedes for any damage. Upon finding none, he walks back to his radio and turns it off, finding it much easier not to bring it up for cockpit maintenance. He slips his more often-used tools in his belt before beginning the arduous climb up to the next platform at the mecha’s chest. 

 

After pausing to catch his breath, he releases the pneumatic latching between the plating at the mechs side, pushing it open until the gap is just wide enough to slip his thin frame through. Inside lay an array of panels, dials, levers and switches, some of them labeled with masking tape and permanent marker. Not that he needed it; he knew his way around this machine, inside and out, by heart- having worked on it consistently for the past year. Internally he affectionately referred to it as ‘him’, though he wouldn't admit it out loud. 

 

He pushes his long auburn hair out of his face, and starts making his way around the small ‘room’, making sure everything is in order. A few of the dials indicating atmospheric pressure and internal temperature look to be a tad off, but it's an easy enough fix- both could be calibrated without much fuss. Though, the internal temperature reading seemed to be accurate- the confined metal room felt noticeably warmer than when he was outside, and considering the mech was powered down, it shouldn't be generating any heat at all. 

 

“Hmm…” Dakota hums, glancing around at the controls again for anything obviously amiss, but finding nothing other than the pressure gauge. 

 

A brief thought crosses his mind, although it's highly unlikely, and he pushes the paneling open again and steps out on the platform. The air  _ is _ cooler out in the rest of the hangar. He glances up at the mech’s helm, but it's plating is as stoic and unmoving as usual. With a sigh he sloughs off his tool belt and climbs up the steel ladder again to the highest platform, which connects to a catwalk leading to one of the monitoring rooms. It's significantly easier than going down, crossing the hangar, taking the elevator, and repeating the whole process to get back. 

 

A quick check on the records confirms that both readings had been off from the average. He shuts the computer down and heads back to the platform where he'd left his tool belt- and key ring needed to get into the supply room for a replacement dial. His stomach lurches uneasily as the metal plating beneath him creaks, almost seeming to sway under his weight. 

 

His breath catches in his throat as the floor drops out from beneath him, only leaving a second to register what happened before his head hits the scaffolding and his vision goes dark. 

 

\---

 

“You alright?” The mechanic awakes to a hand on his shoulder, and the sight of his coworker kneeling next to him. 

 

“Mmh… What?” He mumbles, pushing himself up to sitting with the help of whoever's next to him. 

 

“Were you here all night?”

 

He glances around, finding himself on the same platform he'd left his belt on, before… He can't remember. An ache running down his neck tells him  _ something _ had happened, but what?

 

“What happened?” He asks, turning to the stout figure beside him, who looks back at him incredulously. 

 

“I don't know! Louie came in here and found you knocked out.” 

 

“What's today?” 

 

“Sunday?” 

 

So he'd been unconscious all night, then. The last thing he can remember is walking back from the monitoring room… Had the walkway collapsed? He glances over at it, and though his vision swims at the movement the paneling under the windows is indeed a bit dented, like it'd been hastily put back in place. The other mechanic follows his gaze. 

 

“How the hell did you get back up here after that?” He asks, turning back to face Dakota. “Unless it collapsed without you.”

 

Dakota runs a hand over the back of his neck, feeling the hot, itchy bump that was giving him such a headache. Some dried blood on his hand as well, which he wipes off on his already dirty work pants. “Maybe I didn't fall- I could have caught myself on the edge.”

 

“One hell of a move you pulled, then- managin’ to get all the way over here before droppin’.” He states. “If you got a concussion though, have Richie check it out before you go.”

 

“No, no- I'll stay, I'm fine-” Dakota replies, taking an offered hand as he stands up, trying not to let on how dizzy he is. 

 

“You sure kid? You don't look so good.” He asks, looking him over and eyeing the way he sways on his feet. Dakota nods. “Alright, then- I'll have Scotty give you the easy work today. Don't go strainin’ yourself, alright?”

 

Dakota nods again, holding himself steady as the other mechanic climbs back down to the floor. As much as he wanted it to, nothing came back to him about the night before. 

 

\---

 

The day passes uneventfully, aside from a few dizzy spells interrupting his work. As it turns out, ‘easy work’ mostly entails handing tools to the other mechanics whose hands were busy, so he'd had plenty of time to decide what to do next. 

 

After the rest of the team had said their goodbyes and Dakota had waited until they were really gone, he walks down a dimly lit hallway until he reaches the room he's looking for-  _ Security Office _ . To his relief the door isn't locked, and the security officer had already turned in for the night. Luckily the security is minimal- the computer  password’s the typical nickname and birth year of the officer. The grainy black and white footage is difficult to decipher, but as he scrubs back through the day and into the previous night, he can see himself lying unconscious on the platform where he'd woken up. He skips back a few hours earlier to when he's walking to the monitoring room. 

 

A few moments later he watches himself walk back along the walkway, and then the metal below him gives out. The back of his head glances the edge of the support beam, and suddenly the screen is filled with the familiar plating of the mech he'd been working on- as it dives to catch him. The scene plays out silently; the mech catching him before he hits the ground, and seeming to look him over, carefully maneuvering him in its articulated metal palm. 

 

After a few minutes it reaches up with its free hand to bend the metal back into place, before setting Dakota back on the platform and standing back in its station, going still again. 

 

He pauses the recording and sits silently in the cramped room. The motion activated lights shutting off draws him out of his thoughts. He brings up the security logs, and deletes the nights recording before shutting the computer down. 

 

At least he wasn't crazy. 

 


	2. Nightfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Took 8 months but I finally finished chapter 2- shout out to Anony for commenting on chapter one and inspiring me to keep going.

Dakota walks back out into the hangar, pausing to look the mech up and down from a distance. A bright indicator light flashes on it’s helm. He walks straight across the smooth concrete floor until he’s standing at the mech’s ‘feet’, arms crossed. 

 

“I know you’re alive.” He states, looking up at its helm. A few beats of stillness pass. “Fine.” He huffs.

 

His palms are damp as he climbs up the cool metal ladder. He doesn’t stop at the next platform, instead climbing all the way up to the platform at its helm. He has no idea what he’s doing. Haltingly, he places a hand on the glass of its visor. Rather than it being cool like he expects, the thick glass is warm to the touch, like a sunny window.

 

“You’re warm.” He watches the steady blinking of the indicator light turn into uneven flickering and smiles. _Is he nervous?_ A thought crosses his mind, and before he can stop to think about it any longer his lips are pressed to the warm glass, pulling away as the surface quickly increases from ‘comfortably warm’ to ‘scalding’. 

 

The smooth glass of the visor is reflective enough that he can’t see anything inside. Come to think of it, no one had ever mentioned if there _was_ anything underneath. The blueprints may have shown something, but he doesn’t have them handy. The thought of the mech possibly having a more human visage underneath is exciting. _What would it look like? Would he be able to talk?_

 

“Can you understand me?” The light shines steadily for a moment, before going back to blinking, enough of an answer to know he'd heard him. 

 

_This is risky._ He braces a hand on the metal framing below it’s visor, thankfully not as hot, and steps down into the crook in its ‘neck’, easily able to find his footing on the plating and struts. He carefully makes his way to the middle, more concerned about tripping and catching his ankle than falling to the ground. If he fell, he knew it wouldn’t be far. The struts below him move slightly, and when he glances back it’s hand is hovering behind him.

 

“Heh, you do care.” he says under his breath, shifting his footing. The moment he glances back to it’s visor something cold touches his shoulder - it’s fingers gingerly moving to wrap around his torso. His hands find little purchase on the smooth metal plating as he’s lifted out and away from its body, before being carefully deposited in it’s other hand, held in front of its visor. 

 

Somehow he manages the self control not to look over the side to the floor, instead keeping his focus on the mech in front of him. It doesn't move or say anything- he makes a mental note to check through _all_ the blueprints later tonight to see if it even has the capability to speak. 

 

“Have you always been… Alive?” He asks, relaxing slightly as it nods. At least it could understand him for sure, the indicator light wasn't enough of a reason to believe it until now. “Does anyone else know?” His assumptions are confirmed with its silent response. If anyone _had_ known there's no way any of them could have kept their mouth shut for this long. 

 

After a moment of silence something creaks- even though it's late and he'd seen everybody leave, he doesn't want to risk getting caught like this. And, it seems, neither does the mech, who carefully slides him off its palm and onto the platform at its chest. It goes back to its usual position, stoic and unmoving. He takes a few steps before turning back for a moment. 

 

“... Goodnight.” After receiving no response, he continues walking until he reaches the office door. With a final glance back he opens the door, shutting off the last of the hangar lights before shutting the door behind him. 

 

He stands in the dark, empty office for a while, his mind wandering now that there was no one watching him. Aside from the security cameras, but Louie never really checked the feeds unless someone was stupid enough to try and break in. It was quite a feat to avoid detection for so long in such close contact with humans. And come to think of it, all the mechs built for the long since passed ‘apocalypse’ had been either decommissioned or sitting in hangars like this for the last, what, 10 years? Had the rest of them been sentient too, or was this an anomaly?

  
  


He doesn't sleep much that night, far too preoccupied with the notion of _more_ sentient robots out around the world, not to mention the odds of him being one of the few people with clearance to access not only the mech itself, but all the schematics and classified history of it as well. Obviously he can't risk anyone else finding out, but so long as he's careful, he can do his own research into this particular machine. 


End file.
